Love is Weakness
by captainfloor
Summary: Unable to fall asleep, Hook decides to leave the docked ship and take a stroll by the forbidden lagoon, inhabited by mermaids and sirens. Blinded by his love for Emma, Hook unintentionally puts himself in danger.


Neverland. It was a world of magic, capricious and enthralling, a land of youth, and a promise of eternity. After three centuries, he was back home (could he call it that?), yet the bright and shimmering colors were now shadowed with darkness. The place held so many painful memories for him, memories of loss and coping with pain. Feeling as if staying on the Jolly Roger for even one more second would suffocate him, Hook glanced toward the sleeping quarters once before walking off of the docked ship.

He was taking a stroll beside the lagoon, so much more mysterious and foreboding in the moonlight, for in the dark, there lurked shadows. They were bigger, darker than the objects they reflected; a mutation made unrecognizable. The imagination could drive itself to insanity. But Hook had a special relationship with shadows: he did not fear them. He knew the land inside and out - or so he thought.

He inhaled deeply and breathed out, closing his eyes. His thoughts were jumbled, assembling and disassembling in his mind chaotically.

"Hook?" A familiar voice called from behind him, interrupting his train of thought. His heart leaped to his throat at the sound of her voice, though he would never admit this to anyone, not even to himself. He stopped walking and slowly turned around, limping slightly. She approached him cautiously and asked, "Why are you here?"

"I should be asking you the same question, love." He pointed at her with his hook and raised a taunting eyebrow.

Emma shrugged, hands in the pockets of a red leather jacket he had never seen before. She started hesitantly, "I couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to follow me?" He interrupted her. His eyebrows shot up in jest and he smirked, the sides of his eyes crinkling in amusement as he did so.

She glared at him, and tilting her head slightly, smiled sarcastically.

"I came here, because there's something I want to do." She faced him. Her voice was firm and confident, but the wavering and nervous gaze in her eyes told a different story. She shuffled her feet and she ran a hand through her hair, almost anxiously. "Something I _need _to do."

Sensing her urgency, Hook raised a curious eyebrow. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he opened his mouth (to blurt a sexual joke, no doubt), but was interrupted by the crushing sensation of her lips on his. He froze, his eyes fluttering open in shock. But after a beat, he closed them and his body instinctively responded to hers, caving into the feelings he had suppressed ever since that night on the beanstalk.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, pressing his hips to hers. She parted her lips with a sigh. Her hand curled around his neck, the other running through his dark forest of hair. His moved to cup her chin and angle her face closer to his, softly caressing the line of her jaw.

He finally broke away, his eyes shining in disbelief and wonder, and whispered, with swollen lips and ragged breath, her name. "Emma."

In response, she grabbed both sides of his face with her hands and pressed her lips to his again, fiercely moving her body against him. She lost her hands in his hair, roughly pulling at it. A suppressed moan escaped him from the back of his throat, which made her kiss him even harder.

Emma began to move backwards. She hooked her fingers into his belt loops and pulled him aggressively toward her. She kissed him hungrily, almost desperately.

Water sloshed around their feet as they stepped into the lake.

It was only when half of his legs were completely submerged in water that he realized what was happening. He pulled away from her, startled. His eyes searched hers, scanning her face. Almost immediately, they hardened and his entire face became absolutely devoid of emotion.

He swiftly brandished his sword, so quickly that she missed the movement. He held its sharp point steadily, right below her chin, the blade glinting in the moonlight. He snarled, "Who are you?"

Emma took a cautious step toward him, hands raised beside her head. She shook her head, her eyes pleading with him. "Who else could I possibly be?"

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head slowly from side to side. He pressed the blade into her neck; if he pressed any harder, blood would spill. He widened his eyes threateningly, and then brought his face mere inches from hers, hissing, "You're not Emma."

Tears began to swim in her eyes, obscured by the tangled gold hair blowing in her face. Her voice broke slightly, and her desperate gaze pierced into him. "It's taken me so long to open up, but I've learned to trust you now. Why are you doing this?"

Doubt flickered in his eyes when he recognized the familiar, heavy word last uttered in the giant's lair. _Trust._ He slowly lowered the sword so that it fell at his side. She reached for his hand, but he shook it off aggressively, still hesitating to believe her. Tears hung precariously on her eyelashes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. She moved closer towards him, whispering so that her lips tickled his scarred cheek ever so slightly. She begged him. "But I _love _you."

Hook's dim eyes lit up with a spark of hope that was almost instantaneously snuffed, as if it had never existed in the first place. It felt so _real. _And he so desperately desired it to be.

How long had he waited to hear that voice utter those three words?

Bitterly, he barked out a laugh. He tilted his head forward and waggled his hook at her, as if she had just told a joke. His eyes grew stormy and dark, clouded over with the shadow of lost love. "I see you for what you are now. I refuse to be deceived."

The figure in front of him cried, "What are_ you talking about_? It's me. _I'm_ _Emma_."

Hook narrowed his eyes and spat, "I know what you are, wench. You're a siren."

He raised a hand to tuck her flying hair back behind her ears. Wrinkling his nose in mock impression, he drawled, "Excellent job with the impersonation, darling, but you still need some work. You've got the physical appearance down pat and red certainly suits you, but the execution falls flat."

"You see," he started to move even closer toward her, slowly, never once taking his eyes off of her. He clicked his tongue, his jaw clenching, a vein protruding in his forehead. "Nobody could love a pirate."

"But I _do_," she murmured in a hushed tone. She circled around him, wading in the shallow waters, trailing her fingers across his jaw, neck, torso, leaving hot kisses on every inch of his exposed skin. Every place her lips touched him seemed to burn. He closed his eyes, imagining for one second, that all of this could be real, that it _was _real. And that one second was enough. It intoxicated him, suffocated him, overwhelming his ability to differentiate his fantasy from the darker reality.

"I know you love me, Hook. You _want _me. It doesn't matter that I'm an illusion. If you want me to be real, I will be." She kissed his throat, sucking at it slightly, and running her lips down the stubble of his jaw. "All you have to do is _kiss_ _me_."

She brought a wet hand to his cheek and crushed her lips to his. Their lips moved together hungrily. He bit her bottom lip angrily and pulled at her damp hair to drag her closer to him.

Suddenly, she grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him down, submerging him violently under the cold waters. She immediately twisted the hook out of his arm and threw it towards the shore. She began to drag him even deeper in.

Hook, woken from his reverie, began to fight back. His blue eyes widened in horror when he raised his left hand to stab her and found only a stump of an arm. He immediately kicked at her as hard as he could, but she gracefully avoided him. When he reached for his sword, he realized he had dropped it on the shore. For the first time in over three centuries, Hook lost all hope. Yet he continued to fight, to struggle, kick, punch, bite.

He remembered nothing afterward, for everything became a black abyss.

—

He sputtered, warm water gushing up his throat and dribbling down the corner of his lip. When he coughed, his throat stung with the pain of having swallowed pints of lake water. He opened his eyes slowly, just as Emma bent her face toward him, pinching his nose and placing her lips (_her _lips) on his.

He immediately pushed her off of him. Ignoring the ringing in his ears, he sat up, so suddenly that his head began to spin. It was strange - at any other time, he would have pulled her down to his chest, hugged her close, taken advantage of the fact that their lips had touched.

Seeing that he was alive, relief washed over Emma's face. She immediately replaced it with a look of pure fury on her face, and proceeded to punch him in the arm. Hard. She shrieked at him. "Are you _crazy_? What the hell do you think you're doing, walking around the lagoon in the middle of the night?"

Hook waved his fingers around dismissively, his shoulders shaking as he attempted to suppress a cough. His voice was throaty, hoarse. "I had it under control, lass."

She jabbed his chest insistently with a finger, her green eyes flashing furiously. "Under control?! You're the one who told me to avoid the lagoon. Because of mermaids or whatever the hell is here in this damn world."

Taking a deep breath, she sat back and shook her wet hair out of her face in frustration. She glared at him and then exasperatedly threw her hands up in the air. "Well, say something."

Hook's eyes glazed over as he recalled what had happened God knows how many minutes - or hours - ago. He could barely look at her and pointedly ignored her gaze.

"I have nothing to say to you," he replied finally. He got up on his feet and scanned the shores, avoiding further eye contact whilst looking for his hook.

He was angry. Absolutely beside himself with fury. He was Captain Hook - for God's sake, he was _Peter Pan_. After having lived in this world for three centuries, he shouldn't have fallen prey so easily to a creature such as the siren.

Three hundred years ago, he had nothing but his thirst for revenge, one that could not be quenched until blood had spilled. He had only his anger and pain of having lost love. Thus, no siren had never even dared to approach him.

It infuriated him that he had a weakness now - that this weakness was Emma, that she had been the reason for his downfall. It made him even more furious to know that the siren had perceived this, before he had even an inkling of what she meant to him. He had believed that he understood these creatures, understood every square inch of the land, every shadow in the night. And now he was reevaluating, relearning what he already knew…because of her.

"Not even a thank you?" Emma called from behind him, sarcasm and disbelief filling her voice. She muttered, mostly to herself, "What else would you expect from a _pirate_?"

She spat the last word as if it were poison.

He whirled around and his eyes grew stormy, flashing dangerously. Emma knew, as soon as she saw his back stiffen, that she had crossed a line.

"And what would _you _know about pirates?" he hissed.

Emma's eyelids fluttered and she bit her lip guiltily. But she maintained her resolve, defending herself. "I may not know anything about pirates, but I know about you. And I know you only live for yourself."

He closed his eyes and threw his head back, laughing toward the sky. Humorless. Empty. Emma felt chills run through her, as if someone had splashed cold water inside of her. "So why am I here then? Oh, that's right, I desired a bloody vacation, and you landlubbers just happened to make good company."

She was at a loss of words, her lips opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"No need to apologize, lass," he said, replacing his angry tone with mocking cheer. "Your boy's father said the same thing to me. It must run in the family."

He narrowed his eyes, his lip twisting into a smile that stopped at his empty eyes, spitting bitterly. "Curious thing, family, isn't it?"

"You knew Neal?" Emma suddenly remembered that day in Manhattan, when Neal had admitted to her that he knew how to steer the Jolly Roger.

He made a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat, dismissing the topic. There was a beat of silence.

"Well, thank you," Hook said gruffly, in a lowered voice. He bowed his head, feigning sudden interest in his belt buckle. Abruptly, he took on his usual drawl, as if embarrassed by his sentiment. "For saving my life."

Emma gazed at him, confused. He hadn't glanced at her even once since he had first opened his eyes, nor had he called her love, darling, princess, lass. Anything. And why wasn't he making any sexual jokes? Not that she wanted him to, of course, but mouth-to-mouth seemed the perfect opportunity for another sword pun. He seemed different, more closed off.

Hook, observing his stump of an arm, suddenly frowned. "What did you do with her?"

"Who? That sea woman thing?" Emma fluttered her eyelids, taken aback by the unexpected question. She then shrugged, as if she had dealt with crueler creatures in the past. "I killed her."

It was only then that Hook noticed the the bruise on her shoulder, the cuts on her cheek and neck. The blood on her shirt. Her hair was wet, strands of her locks stained with red. His fingers clenched into a fist, and he began to soften. Just a little.

He looked up suddenly. "What did she look like?"

Emma scoffed, "How the hell should I know? I was trying to kill her, not hit on her. Don't mistake me for yourself."

"But did she…look like you?" He hesitated slightly, and an unreadable expression contorted his facial features.

Half amused, half puzzled, she raised an eyebrow and answered, in a tone that indicated that she clearly questioned Hook's sanity, "No."

Hook nodded slowly.

But of course. Sirens took on the form of their target's weakness. They were an illusion deliberately shaped to best hypnotize the person they wished to attack. To him, she may have looked like Emma. But to her, the siren was just that. A siren.

"What was it?"

"A siren," Hook explained, still avoiding Emma's gaze. He could feel her eyes boring into him. "Extremely protective lasses, they are. They guard the waters they live in, and if any man dares to step foot near, they will kill them."

Emma wrinkled her brow and pursed her lips. "How do they do that exactly?"

"They understand your weakness. They can use it to lure you into the water and drown you."

"And you let them lure you in?" She raised an eyebrow, failing to hide her shock. Hook seemed like the last person on Earth (was Neverland even on Earth? Emma's knowledge of geography was all fucked up now) to allow a feminine creature to entice him into a near-death situation. Shouldn't it be the other way around? She frowned, her brow furrowing. "How?"

He stared straight ahead of him, as if he hadn't heard her question.

"What's your weakness?" Emma pressed.

He coughed to clear his throat, wincing as he did so. Then for the first time since Emma had saved him, he turned to look at her. He flinched slightly, remembering that the last time he had looked into those green eyes, it had not been her. His gaze flicked to her lips, and his facial features immediately hardened. He refused to reveal his weakness to anyone, let alone allow her to find out that this weakness _was_ _her._

Love was weakness. Like the magic on Neverland, it was enthralling and enchanting, desired by so many. However, once experienced or felt, it became dangerous. Love had the ability to break people, make them vulnerable and weak.

Everything he had ever done had been out of love. The reason he lost his hand, the reason he had sought revenge his entire life, broken his ribs, been lured into the lagoon…

And what had love brought him? Years and years of pain.

Never before had Hook felt more vulnerable and helpless, than at that moment.

Yet right beside him sat a lass whose heart could never be ripped out, like Milah's had been. There sat beside him a woman who was born of magic, the existing proof and product of true love. A woman whose one strength just happened to be love.

Emma's question hung in the air, unanswered.

Neither of them moved, neither of them made a sound.

It would take time.


End file.
